Irreverent, scurillous and scandalous

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Trying to make sense of this decision. A loss of a child is tragic, no matter whose. Ida and Raila must have been in excruciating pain. Why they chose to make a national spectacle of their son’s funeral is something I can understand, being Luos and all. That said, the entire thing was done as if it was a state funeral for a dignitary worth his weight in stature, achievements and legacy.

What exactly did Fidel Odinga do to deserve a state funeral? He hadn’t distinguished himself in any way. He had all the advantages that life could offer: money, wealth, connections, name recognition, fame. All at his feet. Yet the only way he distinguished himself was by hanging out with other rich kids of so-and-so, brandishing guns and drinking himself blotto, as do the other kids of the rich in Kenya. He didn’t leave behind a business made and run by his own hands, he had no profile politically other than being Raila’s son, and it seems even his home was bought by his parents’ money, not his own. He had a silver spoon and made nothing of it, which is so sad. The only real legacy is his little boy, and that isn’t really a standout as many people are parents of many children.

Being the son of so and so should not and does not entitle one to a state funeral. That Kenyans seem to have accepted is tragic beyond belief. No wonder that the elite will never relate to the ordinary person’s struggles.

You know how fairy tales end with “and they lived happily ever after”? I have never really filled in the gap after. I’ve always wondered what one does with the husband after marriage. Do you sit him at a table, polish him up and swear to yourself that you’ve bagged the best one yet? Do you pat each other’s back in smug satisfaction? What do you do that is different from or better than a boyfriend? I mean, really, when it’s just you and your shiny new wife together in a room, how is it any different from the day before the marriage?

I made the mistake of asking the person I thought was my best friend, my confidant and the one person I could admit to not having all my feminine skills and wiles to: my boyfriend. It has boomeranged spectacularly against me. World war 3 to be precise: he’s gone from laughing at me to calling me mad and recommending psychiatric evaluation to saying that I’m questioning his validity as a person. We have been fighting about this for the last three days. He’s gone canvassing the internet to see what other people will say. I thought that being the man’s role, he’d have a ready answer to this. Instead, it’s come down to the fact that all women should know this and if you don’t you are abnormal.

Perhaps I’m overreacting, but if you can’t admit you don’t know something to your potential husband without it blowing up the world, then you are not well fit for each other, are you? I have heard over and over again that communication is important in a relationship, whether married or not, but I’m now staring at the reality that I cannot really talk to or feel free with this man as I expected. What sort of relationship will this be if I have to suppress my curious self, hide things from him and talk to third parties to get answers?

Mind you, I related this question when replaying a conversation I had with mum before she died, so it wasn’t even something directly or indirectly aimed at him as I asked this long before he came into my life. I have now consulted 2 friends and they advised me to keep the peace by not asking this guy such questions. I think this is the beginning of the end of this relationship.

I’ve become a slacker in some ways. I haven’t posted anything for years, and yet life goes on. Actually, at this point I’m still in mourning as our mother passed away last October. Let me tell you, there’s nothing worse. Absolutely nothing. One feels helpless, angry, bitter, jealous, repulsed at oneself, regretful of the choices I made in the past… the list is endless. To make matters worse, she died one month before I was to get home for the holidays. Also, about 6 months before she was to come and visit me abroad. I feel that I failed her, that I never became the daughter she wished for, that I didn’t live up to what I wanted to do for her, and that I’m a colossal failure. There are so many things I wanted her to experience and I did not get to do them. Plus, there’s the injustice of it all. Why must the one person who’s most needed by the family die while other families have four generations still living? How fair is that? What sort of formula does God use to determine which person he’s going to let die today? Am I allowed to question him on the wisdom of this choice? If not, why not? Is there a time when I’ll feel happy again?

Anyway, as the oldest in our family now, I can’t afford to feel sorry for myself. Continue reading →

The blog by a harlot on the streets of Nairobi who makes no apologies or begs for pity for peddling her goodies and lying, cheating, stealing and peeing her way through the hassles of such a lifestyle. I actually admire her for being blunt and honest about her life. It does take a lot of married men to keep her in business, and they don’t get stigmatised for it at all. That said, her attempts to sound clever and witty make her come off as a poor man’s Belle Du Jour.

How I lust after them. I know they probably cost thousands and thousands of dollars and in this time of recession I cannot afford to even dream of them, but I cannot look away. And Jada Pinkett has the kind of body I hope I will have after 2 children.

I am stuck. I’ve come to the point in my life where I’m evaluating everything I’ve done so far and I’m not proud of my career trajectory. I have never held a position of responsibility over staff, despite my 5 years in the working industry. I think I’m still in the entry-level position despite changing employers and job titles thrice. My current employer is by far the worst.. they pay very well but I have completely unpredictable hours and at times get no assignments for a whole week. I have also tried to get assigned to movies and such, only to completely screw up and miss the date altogether. Might I be depressed? I’ve slept until 1500 hours, and my friends were alarmed. It had never occurred to me until they spoke up this weekend.